


Blood Rave

by fishliners



Series: EriDave Fright Nights 2020 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Choking, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Stalking, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishliners/pseuds/fishliners
Summary: Months after beginning his search, and here he is, the target of Eridan’s obsessions. There was something about this one that had driven him unlike any of the other vampires he had hunted. The eye witness descriptions posted on supernatural discussion boards, followed up by sketches and drawings of what he’d look like. The way his survivors had described his demeanor, so casual about what he was doing. Eridan realized he couldn’t just drive a stake through his chest, he had to do much more than that. And if he was able to feed his own urges, that would just be the icing on the cake.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Dave Strider
Series: EriDave Fright Nights 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986034
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Blood Rave

The music is deafening and, worse, _terrible_. Shitty bass drops and annoying techno beats boom through the dark venue, lit up by neon glow sticks, lasers, and strobing spotlights. People are crammed together, partying to the music, high on their drug of choice. There’s not much room to breathe, barely enough room to think, and no room to strategize. Eridan Ampora tries to get as good a look as possible at the DJ on stage, getting glimpses of him in between flashes of pink and blue lights. He memorizes as many details as he can, before shoving his way into the nearby restroom.

Eridan locks himself in the only vacant stall, hearing moans of pleasure to his left and lines being snorted on his right. He fishes his phone from his pocket, pulling up pictures he had taken of the portraits, sketches, and drawings he had amassed back at his apartment. Even from the limited viewpoint he had on the floor, there was no doubt in his mind. The blond hair, the thin frame, the douchebag aviators the guy insisted on wearing even indoors... This was his guy. He slips his phone back in his pocket, and pats himself over, making sure everything is in the proper place. Sheath under his pants? Check. Plastic baggie of powder in his pocket? Check. Necklace hanging just under his shirt? Probably not needed, but check anyway. He summons his courage, walking out of the bathroom and back onto the floor and into the writhing mass of bodies.

The DJ is still up on the stage with his laptop and turntables, but the music has somehow gotten worse, which Eridan hadn’t thought possible just moments earlier. The beats were relatively similar, now mixed in with samples of LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem, accordion solos, and sneeze sound effects, among other grating sounds. Yet the crowd seems to be eating it up. Or maybe they’re too high to even realize this is real and not a hallucination. Eridan can’t tell, and he doesn’t really care, keeping his eyes trained on the DJ on stage.

It’s two more hours of Whoopee cushions and polka-EDM before the DJ starts packing his gear up, and a new shut-in with some dumb gimmick is taking his place. Eridan isn’t sticking around to find out what the cardboard box on his head means; he’s already started shoving his way through the crowd once more. Instead of heading toward the bathrooms, he’s now working his way to the exit door used by the previous DJ.

The cool air hits Eridan in a much-needed way, now standing in the back alley behind the venue. It’s dark, too cloudy for stars and a new moon hanging in the sky. A dim light illuminates the street, enough for Eridan to see the DJ loading his turntables into the trunk of his car. Eridan harnesses as much calm energy as he can muster, walking forward.

“Hey, you take tips?” Eridan asks, nearing the DJ and his car. It’s a beat-up little thing. Old enough to be vintage, not in good enough condition to be _vintage_. 

“Depends on the type of tip. You got money, feedback, or some other sorta tip you wanna give me?” the DJ answers, turning to face Eridan with a smirk.

“I was thinkin’ cash, but we could also…” Eridan trails off, fishing into his pocket to pull out the small baggie.

The DJ’s smirk widens and he raises a brow, a silent _go on_.

“A few lines and ten minutes of your time, can I get that, DJ...?”

“Just call me Dave,” he interjects, closing the trunk of his car. “Cut up the lines, my fingers are killing me right now.”

Eridan pours the powder out onto the trunk, reaching for his wallet to grab a credit card and a few bills. He cuts and arranges lines with the credit card, rolling the dollar bills into thin tubes. He passes one to Dave, before using the other to snort a line for himself.

It burns like hell, stinging as it goes up his nose. Probably because it isn’t meant to be snorted, but Eridan pushes that aside as he pulls his head up from the trunk and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Dave is next, leaning down to snort a line. He lets out a wince as he pulls up, shaking his head slightly.

“Jesus Christ, that shit is—” Dave begins, cut off by a sneeze. And another sneeze. He scratches at his neck, turning to face Eridan. “What wa—”

Eridan leaps at Dave, tackling and pinning him down against his trunk. He reaches up for Dave’s aviators, taking them off to reveal Dave’s eyes, complete with the red irises Eridan suspected. He wraps one hand around Dave’s throat, reaching down with the other to grab the silver dagger sheathed at his ankle.

“Eighty percent coke, twenty percent garlic powder. Not enough to see a difference, sure as hell enough for you scum to feel it,” Eridan snarls. “Been lookin for you for months now.”

“Glad— _hrkh_ —glad I’ve got...a secret admirer,” Dave replies, his smirk returning.

The quip earns a tightened grip around his windpipe as Eridan glares down at him, pressing the flat side of the dagger against Dave’s cheek. There’s a light sizzling noise, and Dave lets out a pained grunt. When Eridan lifts the blade, a red welt has seared itself in the shape of the blade.

“Pure silver, the same I used on your old dealer a week ago,” he says, slightly loosening his grip on Dave.

“Just fucking get it over with, hunter creep,” Dave mutters through breaths of air. At this closer distance, Eridan can now make out the clear shape of his fangs.

“Oh please, I’m not a fuckin’ monster like your kind. This is all a _warnin’_ ,” he explains, tightening his grip once more. He sets the knife on the trunk for a moment, flipping Dave over so his chest is now pinned against the car, facing away from Eridan. 

Months after beginning his search, and here he is, the target of Eridan’s obsessions. There was something about this one that had driven him unlike any of the other vampires he had hunted. The eye witness descriptions posted on supernatural discussion boards, followed up by sketches and drawings of what he’d look like. The way his survivors had described his demeanor, so casual about what he was doing. Eridan realized he couldn’t just drive a stake through his chest, he had to do much more than that. And if he was able to feed his own urges, that would just be the icing on the cake.

Eridan mind comes back to the present. He takes the knife in his hand once more and holds it up to Dave’s throat. His other hand drifts down, slowly tugging down Dave’s jeans until they fall on their own, gathering around his ankles. Dave begins to say something, but is cut off by another groan of pain as Eridan presses the flat of the knife against his skin once more. He eventually pulls the knife back, using his other hand to pin Dave’s head against the car. The knife cuts through Dave’s tight briefs with relative ease, Eridan careful to not cut into his prey. The cut underwear falls to the ground, leaving Dave’s lower half exposed in all its glory. 

The car creaks, and Eridan is quick to act. He gathers up a handful of the powder blend of cocaine and garlic powder in his hand, reaching around to shove it in Dave’s face once more. Garlic isn’t enough to kill these parasites, but it throws them off enough to effectively neutralize them. And that’s all Eridan needs. Eridan pushes his own pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock twitching to life in the cool air. Eridan brings the knife back to Dave’s throat, using his free hand to guide his cock between Dave’s warm cheeks. His _warm_ —

Hm. Eridan realizes he’s never had skin-to-skin contact, always opting for a quick stake through the heart or a drawn-out waterboarding with holy water. Apparently the ‘cold bodies’ of vampires was just a myth. Regardless, Eridan keeps his focus on the present, beginning to rock his hips back and forth, his cock quickly hardening between Dave’s cheeks. Eridan can hear Dave muttering something under his breath, but he can’t make out the exact words. Whatever it is likely wouldn’t faze Eridan anyway. He’s spreading Dave’s ass as best he can with one hand, pushing his hips forward to press the head of his cock against Dave’s hole. Without hesitation, Eridan presses forward, letting out a small grunt of effort as he pushes into Dave.

Dave lets out a pained groan underneath him, fists balling up against his car. Eridan doesn’t worry, the garlic and silver have done more than enough to pacify him. Instead, he continues to push into Dave, refusing to pause or give Dave any moment to adjust. He presses the flat of the blade against the back of Dave’s neck, further pressing him down into the car and taking more wind out of Dave. 

“F-fuck..” Dave groans weakly, pitch oscillating and legs trembling as Eridan settles his full length inside Dave. Satisfied with the state Dave is in, Eridan sets the knife aside once more, moving his hands to firmly grip Dave’s hips.

There’s no grace period before Eridan is starting to pull his hips back, before snapping them forward. Pulling back, snapping forward. Pull, snap, pull snap. Eridan sets a brutal, rapid pace as he fucks Dave against his car. The shadowy alleyway is quickly filled with their sounds, bouncing off the nearby walls: Eridan’s heavy balls slapping against Dave’s without restraint, Dave’s choked moans and sobs slipping through his best efforts to stay quiet, and Eridan’s occasional grunts of effort as he drives into Dave over and over.

“Fuckin’...inhuman...freak,” Eridan mutters. Dave starts to stammer something in response, only to give way to a moan.

A few seconds later, there’s another moan, higher-pitched and even less restrained, and Eridan knows he’s hit the sweet spot. He picks up his pace, thrusting forward as hard, as fast, and as deep as he can. Each drive forward is met with another whorish moan from Dave, growing in frequency as Eridan hammers against his prostate. Eridan can see—and hear—Dave’s climax quickly approaching. His futile grasps at the trunk, his trembling legs, his unrestrained moans...

Eridan can feel Dave’s climax wrack through him, complemented with another high-pitched moan. Dave’s walls tighten around Eridan’s cock, and he can begin to feel his gut tighten in anticipation. Ramming forward, he buries himself as deep as he can, letting his head fall back in a low, deep groan of relief.

His cock twitches as he cums inside Dave, filling him with rope after rope of his warm seed. It’s been far too long since his last orgasm, and it shows with how much pent-up energy he’s releasing. He rides out the end of his climax, remaining fully hilted inside Dave until he’s done, before slowly pulling out.

Dave remains bent over the car, passive and mumbling something under his breath. Eridan places the silver dagger back in its sheath, pulling his boxers and pants back up. He intends to keep his promise. After all, his moral code is what separates him from these creatures of the night. But staring at Dave like this—weak, broken, and pliant—, gives Eridan another idea. He doesn’t have to kill Dave, but he doesn’t have to let him continue to roam the streets either, putting innocents at risk.

Eridan grabs another fistful of garlic powder and cocaine, once again rubbing it into Dave’s face to further subdue him. He pulls Dave’s jeans back up around his waist, his cut-up underwear a lost cause. Dave’s thin frame is deceiving, and Eridan has to grunt in effort as he carries Dave over his shoulder on his way back to his own car. He loads Dave into the passenger seat before settling in behind the wheel. In the interest of caution, he takes off his crucifix necklace and hangs it from the rearview mirror.

Satisfied with taking another vampire off the streets, Eridan drives back to his place with a new valuable resource.


End file.
